Drabbles
by Titan16
Summary: Drabbles centering around our favorite warlock, mostly angsty.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer- Sadly, I don't own Merlin.**

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_The soft grass crunches underfoot. _

_The cool air swirls up his nose, and he stops, close enough for the lake water to lap at his toes._

_Everything is silent; calm, even, as he drops his jacket, shirt, neckerchief, everything, until he is completely bare. Tilting his head back, he breathes deep, with clean, sweet air swirling around his bare skin. _

_Spreading his arms, he walks out into the lake, chilled waters rising higher and higher, until he can no longer reach the sandy bottom. Floating, now, an unknown current pulls him to the middle of the water. Eyes still closed, facing the rich light of the full moon, he stretches, until a small pair of hands curl around him, one at his throat, the other his chest, and he sinks down into the dark depths of the lake_

_The hands are followed by a rather feminine body, whose legs wrap tightly around his waist._

_Lips at his throat, collarbone, shoulder, she spins until she is on his front, straddling him. When her lips hit his mouth, he is suddenly rid of the strange, dream like state he was in, and his hands tangle violently in her thick, dark hair._

_Suddenly, her small, slender back is covered with black fur, and knobs of bone begin to form bat like wings. As her bones thicken and heavy, muscles growing, and she produces sharp fangs, he explores her body further, and is to only find more and more blood, leading to a deep, mortal wound in her shoulder, and there is a heavy, ripping feeling of utter, complete betrayal._

_As they sink deeper and deeper, her lips taste of strawberries._

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In his room, Merlin shoots up, covered in sweat, sobbing as if the world was ending.

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**If you want me to continue with another drabble, _please_ tell me. If you don't, review anyway!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer- Luckily for him, Merlin is not mine.**

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The silence was deafening.

When the only sound is the shallow breathing of the seriously ill, the only emotion is mourning for a life still lived, and you barley recognize the prone figure on the bed, it chokes you. There's no breathing, or thinking, or feeling.

I slowly become aware of a soft murmur, and look over to see Gaius, lank white hair framing his face, his eyes red from crying, whispering.

Begging.

As he held my servant's - my _friend's_- hand, he looked amazingly sad and somehow guilty, like he had since it was found that he could not cure Merlin of the infection ravaging his body.

I quickly glanced away. It was too personal, too private, for me to look at.

In all blatant honesty, Merlin had only himself to blame for this. It was his actions, his suicidal tendencies that had caused the wound that had landed him here.

I glance up guiltily from my thoughts. Gaius had spoken louder, this time addressing me.

"What?" I whisper. It seemed wrong somehow, to speak any louder.

"Would you like to speak to him?" Gaius repeats.

"No." I answer.

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**Any better? By the way, this is from Arthur POV, in case you couldn't guess. **

**Thanks to _MagicGirl41_ and _elissan43_**** for reviewing!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer- Not mine!**

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The bandits hauled him over the bright, burning flames, knotted his body down and forced his face into the hazy, odd smelling smoke. The reason, as far as Merlin could tell, was because that the bandits wanted him weak, but how could holding him over a fire accomplish that?

True, they were burning rather odd herbs that Gaius had said to never touch with a ten foot pole, but he _definitely_ wasn't in denial at_ all_.

Once he was secured, the bandits turned and left.

Over time, Merlin noticed his lungs getting tighter and tighter, his head feeling like it could just float away, his limbs as if they were slow and heavy as iron.

Sometime later, he distantly hears footsteps, and gets hauled roughly away from the fire.

Everything is tinted purple, and hazy enough that he has _no_ idea what's happening. When hands haul him upright and odd, familiar sounds are made,

_["Merlin, are you alright? Merlin? _Merlin!_"]_

he hums, and lets his head flop back, completely relaxed. He feels hands wrap around his face like snakes, and struggles when fingers roughly pry apart his eyelids.

_["They've drugged him, Sire—"_

"_Probably with those plants their burning—"_

"_He'll be fine, we pulled him out just in time—"]_

There are distant curses, discussions, and he wants to join in, to find out what's happening, but everything was just so far away….

* * *

Merlin's eyes snap open, and the familiar cackle of flames cause him to shoot back, trying to escape, to get _away-_

Familiar hands drop onto his shoulders, and the knights are suddenly crowding his vision. They explain that he had been caught two days ago, and apparently starved, regularly beaten and drugged, if the state he was found in was any indicator.

_["If we hadn't found you any earlier, mate, you would've died from overdose!"]_

And when he starts going through withdrawal, when he shakes and vomits and _hurts_, they are there, like always.

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**I'm not sure about this one, but that's probaly because it was written at three in the morning. On two random and completely unrelated notes, I now have a FictionPress account, so my orginal stories can be found there under Titan50. As always, please review!**

**Thanks to _MagicGirl41_ for reveiwing!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer - Nope, not mine.**

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Merlin could feel the rough, gritty sandstone that made up the cliff under his feet and between his toes. Back and forth, back and forth, the river hundreds of feet below savagely attacked the cliff, roaring.

_[It took all of Merlin's self-control not to choke or gag at the reek of alcohol that was blanketing him. Gaius had started drinking when his sister, who had also been Merlin's mother, died, about six years after he had gotten custody of Merlin. ]_

He threw his arms wide, inhaling the salty scent of the ocean's runoff, remembering all the years playing on this same cliff, above this very water.

_[Merlin's disgust must have shown, however, because he is shoved against the wall. Gaius sneered, "Oh, I'm not good enough for my little prince? No, wait, this is just his _servant_." He ended the sentence with a punch. Merlin dodged eaisly, but it just made him angrier.]_

He smiled and jumped.

_[For the next few hours, it is only fists and blood and pain, and Merlin feels as if his magic is ripping him apart in its urge to protect him. Later, while nursing his many wounds, Merlin thinks of the morning, the apologies, the promises, and then thinks of a cliff, and a very fast paced river...]_

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**Well? Good, bad, or just plain ugly? Very OOC, I know, but I wrote it and couldn't not post it. Please review, because I'm pretty sure I live off 'em.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer- Not mine!**

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Camelot was burning.

For the light bathing the lone man could never have been from the sun, not because the church bells had just struck midnight, but because smoke coated the sky, blotting out the moon and stars, forming pillars as if to hold up the very universe.

The fire destroyed.

The fire devoured.

But, mostly, the fire killed, and that was why Morgana liked it so much. It was just like her, the one invading the city below him. Atop the destroyed, broken cathedral, which was now littered with bodies sprawled like a child's forgotten playthings, the man could see everything.

On any other day before this one, he would have been delighted for a view like this, wide and limitless.

But now, he could see everything.

Screams echoed up, rattling his eardrums, as blood spattered and ran down the street in red rivers stained black with soot. When he breathed, the smell of sick and sweat and fear was overpowering, and the man shifted anxiously. He would have to leave soon, have to help contain it.

But not yet. Not now.

This used to be an amazing city, large and sprawling and diverse, one where those seeking excitement and livelihood came to settle. The kind where every child dreamed of traveling to, and would never want to leave when they finally did.

Now, it was filled with death, fear, violence and so much worse. And this, well, this was only the beginning.

Soon It would infect others, and soon It would grow to be too big for him and others like him to stop.

Soon, the world would die.

Merlin Emrys bowed his head and held silent vigil to the End.

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**Happy B-Day to me! I hope you like this, and _please_ review!**

**Thanks to _Josh4eve3_ for reviewing!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer- Not mine.**

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Merlin is sixteen and confused.

His mother had learned that Will knew about his 'talent', and mentions her brother Gaius probably has a spare room in Camelot. So, he leaves.

His mother, which is the only family he's ever known, who taught him everything, and always said she'd love him unconditionally, has kicked him out. His only parent seems to have decided to abandon him.

No matter that he has never gone outside Ealdor on his own before, nor that Will had known for years and never told anybody. There was a possibility that he would, and apparently, that gave the excuse to send a scrawny sixteen year old into a land that kills his kind on sight.

And he has no idea what to do, no idea how to protect himself or stay both fed and basically alive.

Well, he decides, I'm old enough to have my own home here, and Mother can fend for herself, so I might as well _leave_ already.

_["What do you think?"_

_"Leave home?" he offers softly._

_"_Go_ home," Hunith whispers.]_

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Merlin is eighteen and mad and snappish and a very, very tiny bit amused, because, really.

_Only_ Arthur.

Arthur, who is his complete opposite. Where Merlin is clumsy, Arthur is graceful, where Arthur fights, Merlin makes peace.

In other words, they confound the absolute hell out of each other on a good day, which this is most certainly _not_.

They had been traveling for a week now, heading for a small town with an apparent sorcerer problem, and instead of going with his plan,

_["I thought we'd agreed to my plan, you prat!"_

_"No, we'd agreed to mine! "_

_"You had a plan? "_

_"Oh, I didn't mention it? I wonder how _that_ happened."]_

Which was a carful, slow introduction that would let them join in mere days with absolutely no suspicion, Arthur had - rather literally - bulldozed his way in, using a mixture of prattish behavior and rather unsubtle threats. Now, they stand in front of the entire village, staring at their own nooses.

Later, they are told that, if they try anything like that again, Uther _will_ let them hang.

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Merlin is twenty and sick.

As he vomits until he thinks he will die, warm, unknown hands cradle his feverish body when he trembles. He is lifted, legs almost dragging the ground, and laid on an unfamiliar bed. He chokes and shakes his head as liquid is forced down his throat, but most of it goes down.

Even as he fights imaginary monsters, as he tries to go home, as he doesn't recognize him and tries to scream, he is there, helping him get through it. As he goes through weeks of sickness, of absolute delirium, spilling all of his secrets and then denying every single one, Gaius just holds and comforts and is _there_, like nobody has been in _years_.

_["I don't need to be treated like a child I don't need this I'm fine, please, just take me _back_-."_

_"I'm here, Merlin."]_

When he is over it, thin and weak but rearing to do something, he yells at him for babying him, for treating him like a child, and Gaius just looks at him and he realizes it's pointless.

* * *

Merlin is twenty-one and strong.

He is like steel. Cold and unbendable, cerulean eyes hard and black with emotion.

Or rather, lack of them.

As blood and dirt and pain spill from him and onto the cold, unforgiving floor, he does not bend, does not waver, does not scream.

Merlin does not speak a word.

* * *

Merlin is twenty-three and starving.

The crops, the animals, all sources of food have been burned, and strict rations have been imposed. The one thing they overlooked, though, is that a young, still growing man and an frail, aging old one might eat slightly more than what's strictly necessary for two _average_ men.

_["I need more rations for my Uncle!"_

_"Everybody needs more. You'll just have to wait in line."_

_"But he's starving right _in front of me_."_

_"And just who the hell _isn't?"_]_

As a result, Gaius was getting thinner and frailer, if it were possible, before his very eyes.

So Merlin let him eat his food, some at first, then more and more as food got rarer and rations got smaller. It did not stop Gaius's suffering, but it helped, so he gave and gave and gave….

Now he ate all but a few bites of Merlin's food, not that he knew it.

So Merlin is now sprawled on his old, raggedy bed, almost too weak to move, listing to the celebration, letting it sink in that there would be no more rations, no more starving. When he tries to get up, he collapses, and his eyes start to slip closed.

Distantly, he hears the celebration and the voices of the people as they rejoice.

When he wakes up, it is to a thin broth under his nose, and he drinks it without hesitation. When he is done, he feels rather than sees Arthur watching him.

"He doesn't know. If you eat when I tell you, what I tell you, he'll continue not to." He leans in closer. "But so help me, Merlin, if you pull something like this without my- or anybody else's- knowledge again, he will know, and I have a feeling that I'll get some help in caring for you." He pauses, standing.

Merlin is falling asleep again, but he speaks once more. "He really is like a father to you, isn't he? "

"No doubt." Merlin responds.

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Merlin is twenty-seven when his magic is revealed.

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**Well, I won't be able to update as fast anymore, because I'm starting my fist year of High School on Monday. But as for this chapter, do you like it? Love it? Want some more of it? Then PLEASE review, seeing as I got ZERO last chapter. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer- Not mine!**

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As long as he could remember, Merlin had been hungry.

As a child, he had been skeletal compared to the other, _already_ unhealthily scrawny children. His mother had often gone completely without food where other parents ate, even if it was just scraps. He was about ten when he connected it with his magic, and tried to stop, if only for her sake, seeing as she was almost as thin as he was.

The only result of this was that he felt like he would burst, screaming, and yet horribly, horribly hollow at the same time.

When he got to Camelot, there was so much food he didn't know what to do. All the feasts, all the meals he delivered daily to Arthur, everything was _ridiculously_ plentiful. Knowing not to draw attention to himself, a fact he had been harshly reminded of within his first few minutes, of entering the gates, he ate like a 'normal' seventeen year old. This not only allowed him to fill out, becoming lean and, despite Arthur's instance, strong, but grow several inches, as well.

He was still ravenous, by anybody else's standards, but only peckish by his.

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Then Arthur killed the unicorn.

While everybody else felt serious hunger for the first time in their lives, Merlin only felt what he had his whole childhood, along with a faint homesickness. While others refused to eat on terms of what the meat was, Merlin had no such qualms, having eaten anything possible, just to stay alive.

_["This is rat, isn't it? "_

"_Try not to think about it. "_

"_Look at me. I'm being _rude_. Here I am, stuffing my face with this _delicious_ stew when you're hungry too. Come on...take a seat. _Eat_."]_

The only thing that really got him was the lack of water, which had been plentiful in Ealdor, the river being close as it was. After the second week, the thirst and hunger combined, making him sleepy and absentminded.

_["Don't you worry about keeping watch, _Mer_lin. You just make yourself _comfortable_. And stop smacking your lips! It's annoying. "_

"_I'm thirsty!"_

"_We're all thirsty, Merlin."]_

And while everybody else retained their basic shape, not losing much else but baby fat, Merlin started reverting to his old state, and soon had to start rolling the sleeves of his shirts and belting his pants.

After the whole unicorn fiasco ended, Merlin was the only one to not start eating immediately, figuring he could last a bit longer to see if it would _really_ last.

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After collapsing in Arthur's chambers, he ate as much as several men, and for the first, and only, time in his life, felt full.

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**Oh. My. Gosh. I got SEVEN reviews last chapter. That's more than any chapter I have EVER written. I think I had a heart attack when I looked at my inbox a couple of days ago. **

**Anyway, this was inspired by a mix of The Labyrinth of Gedref and a review by BriefShiningMoment. **

**And, just to give an opinion on my view of the whole Merlin/Arthur age timeline, I think Merlin was 17 when he first came to Camelot, and Arthur was 20. In Excalibur and Arthur's coming of age, Arthur and Merlin both turned a year older, (18 and 21), so in Lady of the Lake Merlin was about 19 or so. By the end of season four, Merlin was 24, and Arthur 27.**

**But THANK YOU to BriefShiningMoment, TeganL74, Feste the Fool, CaptainOzone, Luxorien, Cinnimania, and Volcanic Plug for reviewing! You guys made my whole WEEK!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer- Not mine. Not _yet_...**

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Merlin was _incredibly_ fast.

Faster than Arthur, faster than his knights, even without all of their chainmail, and simply faster than _anybody,_ really. Naturally, nobody but he and those in his village had known this, until about a year after he started working for Arthur.

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The two of them had been trapped in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, and Arthur had gotten away, somehow, without Merlin quite noticing. Merlin was currently flat on his back, scrabbling away from the bandit cheerfully trying to kill him. As the mace swung down, he was rather vividly reminded of the time he and the Prat had met, except now the mace connected, at least partially.

This gave Merlin the motivation to flip over on all fours and take off, dodging bandits until he reached the trees, and he started fairly flying when he _really_ started going. His wound slowed him down, of course, it being on his thigh as it was, but he knew that had Arthur been with him, Merlin would have been going _much_ slower.

It generally took _them_ at least two or three minutes to lose bandits, but _he_ was free of them in half that.

And no, Merlin wasn't smug about that. Not at _all._

The thing was, when he ran with Arthur, he always made sure he ran two or three paces back, which wasn't enough to make Arthur slow down, but _was_ enough to be the first caught, and was _hopefully_ enough to distract them, if it ever _did_ come to that.

As he dodged trees, all signs of his usual clumsiness gone, Merlin could almost hear the brook near Ealdor bubble, or Will laugh as Merlin won yet another annual footrace by yards.

Suddenly hearing footsteps nearing him, Merlin once again sped up from his run, and almost laughed at the muffled cursing from his opponent. There was something elementally _fun _to simply sprinting, and seeing as he heard only one possible bandit, Merlin slowed, just enough for them to catch up, and then he was off again, this time laughing out loud.

Until, of course, he heard, "Damn it, _Mer_lin, stop playing around!"

Skidding to a stop, he gave off a surprised, "_Arthur?_ "

"Who else, you idiot? And why the _hell_ didn't you stop?"

"I was being chased ban—"

"_Was_ being the key word here, I would think."

"All on your own? That's a first!"

Merlin shifted, starting to pant as well as feel his leg wound. Judging by the fair river running down his leg, maybe racing for no particular reason had been unwise.

Arthurs eyes narrowed, but instead of retorting, he said, "Honestly, Merlin, when _did_ you get so fast?"

Merlin decided to go the 'innocent' route.

"What do you mean, you dollop-head! I was running no faster than I ever – "

"Really_, Mer_lin? You _easily _outran me, and unless I misheard, were quite enjoying yourself while you did it." Arthur cocked his head. "Why not mention it, or, I don't know, actually _run_ when we're being chased? "

Merlin hesitated, felling slightly lightheaded, and responded rather tiredly, "Have you ever heard of the saying, 'I don't have to outrace the bandit chasing me, I just have to outrace my overworked manservant?'"

Arthur blinked, surprised, until his face quickly shifted to anger, but as he opened his mouth, Merlin swayed, and he caught his elbow. "You alright?" The Prince felt slightly foolish, since he knew the answer he'd receive would always be-

"Oh, just fine, really. Only a little cut on my leg."

"Let me see."

"No, that really _won't_ be necessar- _Owww!_"

While Merlin had been talking, Arthur had seen the blood and touched his leg, none to gently.

"If this is fine, I'd _really _hate to see you actually hurt."

And then….

"How the hell are you _walking_, let alone _running_, and at _that_ pace?"

Merlin blinked, trying to focus, and said rather distantly "'That pace?' I was just _running_."

Another sigh. "That wasn't _just _–Merlin?_ Merlin!"_

* * *

When he woke at his and Arthur's camp, several hours later, with his leg bound and Arthur poking the roaring fire with a stick, the first thing he heard was,

"When you are fully healed, _Mer_lin, we are racing for _real_."

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**Do you love it? Hate it? Please tell me in the form of a lovely review, which I always appreciate, and especially now that I used more dialogue, which I'm fairly sure I'm horrible at, as well as it not being as ansgty as usual.**

**And a HUGE thinks to _Cinnimania, MagicGirl41,_ and _April29Roses_. I _promise_ I'm working on your promt, _Cinnimania_, but I'm thinking about turning it into a one-shot or even a full-blown story, and need more time to put it up, since I have so much going on.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer- Neither Snow White or Merlin is mine.**

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"_Once upon a time, in deep winter, a queen was admiring the falling snow, when she saw a rose blooming in defiance of the cold. _

_"Reaching for it, she pricked her finger and three drops of blood fell. And because the red seemed so alive against the white, she thought, if only I had a child as white as snow, with lips as red as blood, hair as black as a raven's wings, and _all _of the strength of that rose._

_"Soon after, a daughter was born to the queen, and was named Snow White__."_

Merlin sat inside the armory, polishing the prince's armor, as the foreign story-teller spoke. The fact that she was a woman was odd enough, with the rough, traveling lifestyle bards often led, and not to mention the fact that she traveled with royalty, and not simply from town to town.

All of that aside, she was indeed an amazing story teller, weaving a tale of pain and, growing ever rarer, magic.

"_The next winter was the harshest in memory as Snow White's mother passed away._

_"The king was inconsolable. _

_"Taking advantage of his grief, a dark and mysterious army appeared and lured him into battle. __The Dark Army was defeated, but what would soon come to pass was _far_ darker."_

It reminded him of the rare times in Ealdor when travelers would come to tell their tales, in exchange for food and lodgings for the night.

Of course, she wasn't telling it to him, specifically, but to the crowd outside. All the same, Merlin knew that the usual hubbub of the street was gone, replaced by a captured, unnatural stillness that was almost as eerie as her story.

"_On the battlefield they found a young woman, held in chains. So enchanted by her beauty was the king, that he forgot for the first time his broken heart, and the very next day, she would become his wife."_

He was struck, suddenly, by how eerily_ similar_ the tale and Arthur's life was. Yes, he had no stepmother, and magic had not brought the kingdom down, but when a woman died of childbirth, a man went to war. Lives were lost.

Destinies made.

_She had tricked her way into the kingdom with a phantom army. She now welcomed a very real one._

_So poisonous was the reign of Ravenna that nature turned on itself and people turned on each other._

_The land died, and with it, hope__."_

Hopefully, the story would not end the same.

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**This would just NOT get out of my mind! Anyway, the story-tellers tale is the voiceover from Snow White and The Huntsman, which would now be my favorite movie ever if Kristen Stewart would stop breathing as loudly as possible 24/7. But when I heard the voiceover, this just begged to be written. **

**PLEASE review!**

**Thanks to _MagicGirl41, Luxorien, TeganL74, Josh4eva3_ and Cinnimania for reviewing last chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer- Not mine.**

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_Protect._

He lunged, _["Get down, Gwaine!"]_sword swinging, screeching like the bird of prey he was named for. His vision, clouded red, pounded in time to his heartbeat and one word-

_Protect._

Their hot, thick blood ran down his chest as he tore out theirs_,["Have mercy, _mercy!_"]_ using the long, shining blade that his land was so known for. They came for him, for his _friends_, but he cut them down one by one, focused on only one thing—

_Protect._

Some had magic, but that was fine with him. He did to, after all. But while theirs was cold and harsh, _breakable_, his was thick and heavy, a bright, _shining_ gold. It only added a little challenge, a little heat, to the already hot, predatory game they played. A game called—

_Protect._

He could smell them now, their blood, their death, in the air. But that wasn't all. In the rage he had only gone into a few times in his life, he could smell his friends as well. _Their_ blood,_ their_ sweat.

_Their_ fear.

They fought beside him, still, but he had to—

_Protect._

They were fleeing, running, losing, _["Cowards! Not so tough now, are you!"]_but he could not. The blood fever pounded through him, burning and thick and screaming and he had to—

_Protect._

He was faintly aware of friends holding him, screaming in an unintelligible garble _["Merlin! Merlin, it's over they're gone its okay now Merlin, _Merlin_—"]_ but he had to help, had to fight, had to—

_Protect._

There was a sudden pain in his cheek, and he would have bitten the hand that did it, if it hadn't belonged to one of them. But he soon felt the hands return, gently this time, on either side of his hot, snarling face, and he thrashed and struggled against the hands and the arms holding him down.

He screamed again, not a battle cry, but one for help, one they noticed, responded to, if their stiffening was any hint. But one, soft word _["Merlin."],_ was spoken, and he was, suddenly, back to himself.

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**Wow, two in two days! _That's_ a record. Anyway, if you liked it, PLEASE review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer- Alas, Merlin isn't mine.**

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When Arthur first met Merlin's mother, he was surprised.

Not at the fact that she looked _exactly_ like Merlin, just with an actually proportional body, if a little thin. Nor was it the purplish bruise on her face, because Merlin quite obviously took after her in more ways than one.

No, it was her _age_ that surprised Arthur.

She was young enough to just start having children, or _maybe_ an infant on her hip. Instead, she had a….. Merlin's age.

Whatever the hell that was.

But _still_….

Merlin had made, he recalled, a passing comment about not knowing his father. Arthur had assumed he had died of disease, or famine, or even bandits.

_Not_ that he had sired a bastard son and left him behind.

And after, when they all got to the village, he was shocked yet _again _at the simple respect she received. Fallen women were frowned upon in Camelot, but in small villages they were usually shunned to the point of not living with others at all.

But somehow, Hunith was different.

When she supported Arthur, the other agreed, no questions asked. She had wisdom, and confidence, and a sort of _power_.

Yes, Arthur thought, Merlin took after her indeed.

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**Not sure about this one, seeing at how short it is, so please tell me what you think! I'm _pretty_ sure I live off of reviews.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer-I personally believe that by saying, 'Disclaimer', I will get the 'all rights to their owners' across. After all, no one reads on after seeing that word.**

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Arthur stepped into Gaius's chambers, knowing that was where he would find his injured manservant.

Stopping the bed midway down the aisle, he looked down at his friend. While on a simple hunting trip, their group had been ambushed for an unknown reason. The knights had done their best, but somehow, Merlin was the only servant left alive, and seriously wounded, at that.

He was now in the process of getting his side stitched back up, and the one upside to this was—

"Arthur! Are you okay? I feel okay, but Gaius says I'm not, and that he's stitching my stomach back up—that is my stomach, right?"

Arthur looked away from Merlin's wide, trusting eyes—and their blown pupils— to peer at Gaius instead. His hands were buried in the soft, pale skin of Merlin's body, hiding the blood, and sewing carefully. He paused, and gave Arthur a long-suffering look.

"If I had known he got like this," Gaius said, rather mournfully, "I would never have given him the tonic."

Arthur snorted, right as Merlin said, in the same happy, burbling tone, "Really? I'm happy you gave them to me, even if it makes me feel all funny. Am I funny, Arthur? A little girl said I looked funny once, but it might be because I'd just finished cleaning out the stables."

Arthur looked at him for a moment, and put a hand on his knee. Sagely, he said, "It is an absolute _pity_ you won't remember any of this later."

This drew a snort from Gaius, which he heard as he turned on his heel and walked quickly away.

Now that he knew Merlin was okay, he needed to brief his father.

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**This was supposed to be angsty, I promise! I just couldn't pull it off, what with all the excitment for tomorrow's episode.**

**Thanks to _CaptainOzone_,_ Reddiamond29_, and _Luxorien_ for breaking my review-less streak!**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Discliamer-Not mine. And just to warn you, this isn't just dark, but graphic as well. Consider yourself warned.**_

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_Splinters dig into his bare back, hot little pinpricks of pain, like tiny embers slowly dying out, and _oh, oh please no, they're really going to _the rope rubs his wrists raw, until blood, red as the dry, burning wood under him, drips down to splash in ruby puddles. The smoke creeps up his lungs, thick and heavy and _oh god, he can't breathe can't think cant, cant, cant—

_The heat moves up his body in thick, fat waves, scorching his skin sunset-red and making him wonder if the flames have finally reached him, if he is too insane to tell anymore. But _oh, oh god_, it hits, and burns and **hurts**, and the smoke is nonexistent but that doesn't matter, not anymore, because, the pain, the **pain**, hot and burning and _please, anybody, make it stop_, takes his breath away until black spots dance in front of his eyes, but he stays awake, _please, somebody kill him already,_ he doesn't pass out even as his flesh melts off his bones, landing in loud, heavy drips on the already bloody cobblestones. The flames lick slowly up his body—_

Merlin jerks awake, screaming. He retches, and flips over on his hands and knees to purge himself of his meager diner.

It does little to stop the tremors wracking his thin frame.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer- Not mine.**

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He was like diamonds. Shiny and attractive, but with hundreds of different facets, getting cut smaller and smaller over time, changing at whim. He was a cover, strung out on a necklace and left to distract anyway possible, be it looks or sharp, cutting edges.

_Beautiful._

He was like glass. Breaking constantly, skin scarred and nobody ever able to put him back together again. As a boot connected with his body once again, he shattered, shards cutting and ripping his very body apart. When he awoke, he would break again, but in a _very_ different way. He had killed, had slaughtered that guard with edges so sharp the man hadn't even noticed he'd been cut.

Until he died, that is.

_Beautiful._

He was like ice. Hard, cold, untouchable. He killed and moved and never_, never_ looked back, because then he'd have to see all the pain, all of the _destruction_ he had left in his wake.

_Beautiful._

He was like fire. Burning hot and bright, thin frame swaying with the breeze. One minute there, the next gone, moving with the wind and whatever fueled him. All he left behind were a few dark hairs, mere shadows of his presence. He was hot and burning and amazing. But even the hottest fires must burn out eventually.

_Beautiful._

He was like water. Smooth and cooling, cradling a young child in his arms. She sobbed, but all he did was hum softly to her, and old song he had heard once before, long enough ago so that even he did not know the words. The simple melody flooded over her, and she quickly quieted. He flowed silently away, planning on returning soon.

_Beautiful._

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**Well, what do you think? **

**Thanks to _Luxorien_ for reviewing!**


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